Act
by Leara Fiera
Summary: It was a part of their jobs, right? Acting. How could he tell the act from the real deal? Tony finds himself watched by creepy guys in the airport and in order to distract them, let Ziva know that they need to act.


So, this is my first 'story' to get published. I hope I've gotten the rating and such right. Originally, I wanted to make this a multi-chaptered story, but then I did some thinking and realizing if I started a story, I'd never finish it, so I wrote it as a oneshot instead. I hope you like it, here it comes.

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own NCIS or anthing else mentioned in this story.  
**

They had him surrounded, his better instincts told him. His gut, Gibbs would have said, but then there was all those time his gut had been wrong, hadn't there? Now where he could see several calmed, dark-skinned people with glares of death among the crowd, his instincts kicked in - which was another word for drabbling voices in his head, he used to hear when he drank too much on a week night. For once, he listened, while his eyes flickered around and he tried not to tense, not to warn them that he'd seen them.

_Act_, a voice screamed in him.

_No way_, another said. _She'll kill you_. _Very slowly and definitely painfully._

_It'll be worth it_, the first one insisted._ Besides, if we don't, I might not survive, so she can kill me later. No matter how painfully it might be._

_Good point_, the second voice declared. _Since you're already wearing the uniform_.

He looked down at himself. Yes, he was still wearing the naval uniform, he'd been handed, when he arrived at the naval base. It all seemed like a lifetime ago, though. Then his biggest concern had been not coming home in time to watch the Magnum reruns. Now he'd put Ziva's life in danger only by calling her to pick him up at the airport; he risked her life right now, and all he could think of was how beautiful she looked out of her usual cargo parts. She wore a khaki skirt instead, so feminine and unlike her, yet he liked it, especially the length of it barely reached her knees. Oh God, he gorgeous, tanned legs… She'd let her hair curl in the way he loved it, maybe to tease him, and a white tank top suggested that she'd been done with her paperwork in time to get home, shower and change before coming here. Or she'd gone undercover in the two weeks, he'd been gone. The shades shielding her beautiful, chocolate brown eyes finished the picture perfectly. He had a hard time convincing himself that this wasn't a social visit from a girlfriend, but his lethal assassin of a colleague picking him up from two weeks, he'd been stuck arguing between the aircraft personnel and marines, who missed their girlfriends and complained endlessly into the nights, not realizing how contagious the absence of one's love ones were at the rest of them. He know understood why he wasn't that valued on the Seahawk, having forced to be stuck on the disagreements between the Air Force and the Navy, no way of getting out.

She was now sixty feet away from her, frowning, but walking relaxed. No way that she had a gun, but of course, Ziva being Ziva, she has other weapons concealed on her gorgeous body, which he resisted unnaturally. He caught her eyes, trying to warn her other the now five Middle-Eastern people throwing him suspicious glares.

_Stay calm_, a voice advised, sounding very much like Kate. He cracked a smile and tightened his grip in the bag resting over his shoulder. He now had two options.

1) He could act, like advised and hope Ziva would find mercy in him to kill him quickly

2) Risk his life and being seen as who, he really was

Neither of the options had very pleasant endings, but he preferred number one. He mouthed the words 'surrounded' which she with her excellent spy skills picked up, discreetly located the observes, as she kept walking. Few feet away, she exclaimed:

"John! I've missed you!" She nearly jumped him, hugging him tightly like a lover meeting a lover. She placed a kiss on his mouth and stared into his green eyes, whispering the word, he'd thought to himself seconds before.

"Act. Play along." Loosening up by the fact that she'd read his mind and brought them into temporary safety, he laid his arm around her waist, feeling more awkward than ever. In-juiced by adrenaline from her earlier kiss, he leaned down and caressed her cheek, before pulling into a deep, passionate and forgiving kiss, which received several offended gazes from others in the gate. Inappropriate, they could think.

"Angela," he said, maybe a little too loud. "I've missed you too. The whole summer," he added, as the Middle-Eastern people looked away, loosing their interest in them. He released a breath, he hadn't been aware that he'd been holding. She too, loosened her arms from around his neck, involuntarily, he could feel.

"You okay?" he whispered. She putted on a fake smile, but her eyes never left the floor, few seconds after they'd been on their watchers.

"Yes," she just said. He, however, couldn't tell if it was an act or not. They had never been that good in communicating and distinguishing their lies from their truths. Maybe, what they had, was all just an act, along with the pranks. _Maybe_, he thought hopefully, _this was the real deal, and everything else was fake_. This was what caused his smile, as they wandered out of the airport, his arm resting on her waist, her head leaning to his chest.

_An act_, he repeated to himself, smirking and fully aware of the awkwardness, which was to follow. But he could deal with that, if he was able to keep his arm on her waist for just a little while longer.


End file.
